


Stop the World (I Wanna Get Off with You)

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Over Exposure [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Model!Hannibal, Phtographer AU, Will thinks he's straight how cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Will, the lens of his camera had always served as a wall and a portal- a delicately fenced window into a world that allowed him to see but never fall. Until Hannibal was in front of that lens, and he was falling hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop the World (I Wanna Get Off with You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solamentenic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solamentenic/gifts).



> So, the other night, [solamentenic](http://solamentenic.tumblr.com/) left me a prompt, "Part 1: Since those new Mads photos have everyone's panties flying off, how about Hannibal is a model and Will is the photographer. It's easier to for Will to look through a camera then at people but his empathy makes for great photo shoots. It brings out a rawness in his subjects. Hannibal catches Will watching him change and is interested in seeing if he can get him to look at him without a camera. Hanni seductively runs his hands over his dick and does not wear underwear on purpose. Part 2: When the shot is over, Hanni corners Will in the dressing room and forces him to look. To touch. Will is nervous but is hard just from the look alone. Hannibal jerks off, forcing Will to look him in the eyes as he does. He then takes Will over the chair, preps him and Will is fucked for the first time by a man. He never knew how good it felt. Hannibal take pictures of him fucking Will in the mirror so they both have something to remember the experience." And I finally sat down to write it.
> 
> It might have gotten out of control. I might be in love with this AU now.

The camera was a solid, pleasing weight in Will’s hands. He held it with ease, calling out for his model to bow her head more. The brunette obeyed, her hair falling in waves as he clicked, loving the sound of the camera as the image was captured. “Would you lay on your back for me, Alana?” he called, standing up, and she settled down, hair fanning out around her. “Oh, perfect honey.” He grabbed his step stool, climbing up on it and looking down at her, grabbing a few more shots. “Arch your leg a bit.” Alana obeyed, bending it at the knee, gazing up at him with crystalline eyes that pierced through the lens, but stopped short of his own irises. “Prefect.”

Will felt at home behind his camera, always had. It served as a protective wall against the world, a filter when he tried to slip into them, figure out the most comfortable way for them to shift and move, the poses that were natural to them. He’d battled his empathy disorder his whole life, had only found solace in it when he picked a camera up for the first time. It served as his portal and his mote. It left him feeling like a god, gazing down upon the Earth at a comfortable distance.

“Okay darlin’, we’re good.” Will climbed down, extending a hand and helping the woman up. Waiting off by the side of the set, his assistance Beverly offered a robe to Alana, who was clad in a knitted one piece body suit. He heard them laughing as Alana stepped out of her heels, as he walked over to his laptop. He popped his memory card out of his camera, sliding it into the reader and glancing through the photos he’d gotten, copying them to the server he had set up in the studio.

“Will, do you want me to get Hannibal?” Beverly was standing a few steps away, and he nodded.

“Sure thing darlin’, I’m ready for him.” Beverly smiled, slipping off, as Will popped the card back into his camera, formatting it as he headed back towards the set. His other assistant, Brian, was switching out the backdrop for him, from white to black, and Will was fiddling with the lights when Hannibal emerged. Will glanced up, watching the way the man walked with an eased grace, feeling pulled in. His presence seemed to command the room, because even Brian was watching.

Will swallowed. He’d only worked with the man one other time- he was a friend of Alana’s, and Will had seen some of the modeling he’d done- attractive, he couldn’t deny it. The first shoot they’d done had been very laid back, with he and Alana both modeling together, and Will had felt like he had kept his proper distance, until the man laughed during a shot, and he caught the most charming and heart stopping smile on his camera.

He had the photo printed, framed- but not hanging in his studio apartment. He hung his favorite shots in his own home to remind himself of what he was capable of, what he should continue to strive to surpass- but this was different. He felt almost embarrassed, as if he couldn’t stare at that smile, and yet a part of him wanted to hoard it, keep it for himself from the world.

“Center stage,” Will forced out as Hannibal eyed him. The man nodded, standing against all the black, looking casual enough in jeans and his knit grey sweater. “Look up and off,” Will said, pointing, and the man obeyed, not saying a word. Will snapped a shot, adjusted his lights, and did it again. “Raise your arm darlin’,” he whispered, and Hannibal did as Will crouched, aiming his camera up.

His heart was racing in his chest. Instead of feeling as if he was a step ahead of time, like he normally did, Will felt like he was drowning in it. He wasn’t sure when he had Hannibal strip of the sweater, left in a loose, thing t-shirt. He wasn’t sure when Brian brought out the chair and Hannibal sprawled in it- all he knew was he had the overwhelming urge to straddle his lap, to have those dark eyes gazing at him, past the camera.

It was ridiculous. Will was, he was _sure_ , very straight. He’d never looked at a man as more than a model- he kept his distance with his female models, usually. There was that drunken night with Alana, once, but they laughed about it now. He’d been photographing her so long he didn’t dare let it get awkward between them.

“Lean back for me,” Will asked, and Hannibal did, one arm draped back over the chair, one leg extended. He glanced at Will, staring through the lens, piercing up into Will’s skull, and the brunet’s finger froze over the trigger. The smallest smirk graced Hannibal’s lips, just as Will managed to regain himself, and when he glanced at the image on his display screen, he knew the man had seen past the camera, had looked right at him. His models never did that.

Will crouched down, trying another angle, as one of Hannibal’s hands rested along his lap, thumb stroking along his fly. Will’s breath caught, and that damned smirked was back, on those perfectly sculpted lips, and Will couldn’t breath. Hannibal cocked his head, his bangs falling along his forehead, pushed his hips up slightly, making the shape of his cock rather obvious, for just a moment. Will’s heart sputtered, and he was sure he was falling, losing his balance. He forced his finger to click one more photo, then carefully stood up, shaking his head.

“Take five everyone,” he called, reaching a hand up to his forehead. “I...have a headache.” He turned, walking briskly away from the set, towards the hall that housed the dressing rooms. He slipped into the last room- the one he had claimed for himself as a small office- and set his camera on the old oak desk, leaning against it and raking a hand up through his hair.

_Pull yourself together Graham. You’re acting absurd_. He shook his head, running his hand down his face, rubbing the stubble at his jaw. He must have imagined it, some of it. It didn’t make any sense- why would Hannibal give him those looks, that suggestive raise of his hips?

Why had he been so quick to eye his groin, to find the curve of his cock. _Was he hard_? Will groaned. _Fuck it Graham, does it matter?_

There was a knock at his door, then it was opening. Will assumed it was Beverly, turned and began saying, “Just gimme me a minute, Bev, my head-“

He broke off as the door shut, and burgundy eyes stared down into his own. Hannibal seemed to fill the room’s small space, a looming shadow with gem-like eyes, was smoke as he took one step, two closer to Will.

“Is your head still hurting you?” He had an accent to his voice that made Will feel oddly weak. He knew he himself had one, from so long spent as a child in Louisiana, but Hannibal’s was different. Eastern European of some sort- Will hadn’t gotten to ask last time.

“Yeah,” Will said, “I get headaches. No big deal. I’ll be fine in a few minutes and we can finish up.” Will leaned back against the desk, and Hannibal took another step towards him. He was studying him, and it made Will feel small, child like. Another step, and Hannibal was in his space, reaching for him, a hand brushing along his curls. His thumb rubbed along Will’s temple, and even if the headache was a lie, the sweet feeling from his touch was all to real. Will exhaled, as Hannibal’s other hand reached for him, cupped his face.

“You are an intriguing man,” Hannibal whispered, “You hide behind your camera like it’s a wall.” Will stared at him, for a moment in those eyes- and then when it was too much, his glance dropped down to his lips.

_Bad decision_.

“I like my wall,” Will whispered, felt the heat coming off of Hannibal, as he closed in, their bodies finding contact. Will tensed, felt aware of every curve of the man’s body- and one very distinct one that pushed against his belly. “What are you-“

“You look at me differently. When you move the camera, you have a detachment still, as if there is a net that keeps you from finding enthrallment in your models. You are kept at a distance with Alana, when most would fall into her.” His hand slipped back into Will’s curls, while his thumb traced Will’s cheek. “But when you look at me, I see a torn net. Like a snake has slithered in and poisoned you. You look... _interested_.”

“I don’t find you all that interesting.” It was a lie, and Will knew it- but couldn’t accept it.

Hannibal chuckled. “You will.” His grip on Will’s face tightened and he leaned in, pressing his mouth to the brunet’s. Will was frozen, taking in heat and the soft movements of his silken like lips. He pushed against Hannibal’s body, his hands at his sides fluttering, wanting to grab and clutch. Without thinking, as Hannibal guided his head back, he shifted so he could rub along the man’s thigh, finally grasping at his t-shirt, holding on.

Hannibal’s tongue traced the seam of his lips, pushed inside to test the points of his teeth, run along his own, and Will was suffocating. He gasped when their mouths were abruptly separated, when Hannibal pulled away, walking around the desk and dropping into the leather chair situated on the other side.

“I want you to watch, to look,” he offered, running a hand along his groin, that smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “to _see_.”

The pop of the buttons on his jeans had Will fully turning, grasping the edge of the desk. The sound of the zipper whispering down had a tremble passing through him-

Hannibal reaching in and pulling his cock free had him openly losing his breath.

The model tipped his head back, slightly, stroked his cock with a teasing ease. Will could see the hint of blonde curls at the base, realized the man hadn’t worn underwear, and felt a throb between his own legs. _Fuck, tell him to stop_ , it was the rational part of his mind, screaming at him- but he couldn’t listen. He licked his lips, watched the way Hannibal’s mouth opened just slightly, the way his throat worked when he swallowed.

He moaned, and Will whined. Hannibal smiled, shifting, and Will knew he watched as his eyes fell down to his cock, the flushing and impressive flesh that he worked as if he had no desire to ever truly reach climax- yet at the same time, Will knew he could, somehow even at a leisurely pace, with the addition of the way Will wouldn’t stop staring.

Hannibal could get off on Will watching him. It made the brunet impossible hard.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his hips pushing up slightly, “are you hard?” Will nodded before he could stop himself, and Hannibal smiled. “Come here.” On shaking legs, Will walked around the desk, leaning against it as Hannibal slid the chair closer, releasing his cock and placing his hands on Will’s sides. He traced along them, leaned forward and pressed his face to Will’s clothed groin, mouthing at the denim and Will knew feeling his erection beneath the layers. He gasped, shook his head as Hannibal worked his jeans open, nuzzling the thin layer of cotton his underwear left between them.

_You’re not into guys_ Will tried to remind himself, even as Hannibal pulled the cotton down, freed Will’s cock. He grasped it, gave it a slow stroke, before he licked at the tip. Will swallowed, stared down with wide eyes as Hannibal sucked the head into his mouth, teasing as he stroked the shaft. His other hand rested on Will’s hip- wanted to curl around and grab his ass, but the desk prevented it.

“Shit,” Will breathed, hands fidgeting at his sides. He didn’t allow intimacy a lot- it was a lot of work, and frankly not often worth the headache it gave him- but he was pretty sure a mouth had never felt this good around his cock. _A mouth’s a mouth. It doesn’t meant anything_.

Hannibal pulled his mouth off, daring to tilt his head, drag his tongue along the underside of Will’s cock, before whispering, “Feel good?” Will nodded, swallowed the lump in his throat, kept his mouth shut as Hannibal stood, finding his mouth and kissing him again as he stroked. Will’s cock bumped his every few movements, left the brunet’s head spinning as the breath was sucked out of him-

Then Hannibal was pulling away, turning him around and grabbing at his clothing, guiding it all down his thighs until they fell past his knees, pooling around his ankles. Will gasped, missed the sound of a cap being popped open- of Hannibal feeling through his own pockets even. All he felt was a slick presence pressing between his ass cheeks, and then against his hole.

“Wha-“ he started, but Hannibal pushed a finger into his tight body, and the words turned to a shocked gasp. The older man smiled, leaning down and pressing his lips to the back of Will’s neck. “Fuck, stop.”

“Do you mean that?” Hannibal moved his finger, slowly, slicking Will’s hole and then pushing a second inside. The gasp Will gave sounded far more pleased. “I don’t think you do.”

“I- I’m not...”Will shook his head, even as Hannibal thrust his fingers into his body. “I don’t...I don’t fuck men.”

“You’re not fucking one, darling,” Hannibal whispered as he spread his fingers, stretching Will further and making him moan, “you’re _getting_ fucked.”

Will bit his lip, worried it and wanted to tell Hannibal to fuck off- except, he truly didn’t. He was sure he _should_ want to, but the feeling of Hannibal’s fingers in his ass turned his nerves to live, raw wires. Made his cock leak- and then Hannibal curled his fingers and Will yelped, pushing back against them, hearing him chuckle.

“Like that?” Will opened his mouth, panted out his breaths, as a third finger was pushed inside and they curled again, finding Will’s sweet spot. He moaned, shifting, and Hannibal nipped at the back of his neck, before pulling out all together.

Will whined, cursed himself for it, then choked on his breath when he felt a broader pressure on his hole- the slick head of Hannibal’s cock.

“Tell me no,” Hannibal breathed, one hand wrapping around Will, grasping a his chin and arching his back so he could nuzzle at his ear. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Will opened his mouth, the words on his tongue, ready and waiting. All he gave was silence, then he was pinching his lips shut and the head of Hannibal’s cock was breaching his body, his cock pushing in inch by slow inch. Will trembled, felt the stretch, an ache at accommodating the man- but no burn. Hannibal had made sure he was wet enough to feel as little discomfort as possible.

When he was fully inside him, Hannibal stilled, allowed Will to tremble around him. The smaller man was panting, grasping at the desk. He reached around the brunet with his other arm, pulling him back against his chest and kissing his neck as his hips pulled back, then pushed forward. Will’s body accepted it, and he moaned, shivering, hands reaching back and running along Hannibal’s sides. He tried to rock with him, the resulting rhythm shallow and enough to tease Will into broken moans.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, as Hannibal’s hand left his chin, wrapped loosely around his throat as held him as he tried to drive in deeper. “ _Oh fuck_.”

“Tell me no,” Hannibal breathed again, managing a thrust that pressed the head of his cock into Will’s prostate, and the younger man sobbed out,

“ _Yes_.”

Hannibal groaned, pulling out, leaving Will dissolved to whimpers as he turned them, shoved Will into the chair. The brunet scrambled up, clutching at the back and pushing his ass out, wanting without thinking and leaving Hannibal to his devilish smirks.

This time, when he thrust in, it was with a driving force that left Will crying out loudly. He arched, tossing his head back, and Hannibal buried his hand in his curls, pulling heard so his scalp burned. “Like it?” he breathed, and Will whined.

“Yes, fuckin’ yes.” His cock was bobbing with each thrust, red and screaming for his hand. But Will was sure if he let go of the chair, he would fall off the world. It was spinning wildly, to the point that he was dizzy. “Fuck, stop the world,” he groaned, and Hannibal laughed.

“Do I make it spin for you?” Will tried to nod, but Hannibal pulled his head back further, yanking on his hair in a way that Will decided he _definitely_ liked. “Do you want to get off, Will?”

“Y-yes,” he stammered, and he didn’t know if he meant off the world or off this torturous high and into a post-orgasmic euphoria. Probably, both.

Hannibal shifted, and his next thrust hit Will’s prostate. Will cried out as Hannibal finally released his hold on his hair, choosing instead to reach around him and grasp his cock. He stroked and Will was nearly screaming, head dropping down as he clutched onto the chair for dear life, his spine feeling like it was channeling static down to his balls, his belly tight and aching.

Hannibal dropped his own head, bangs free, and Will felt his thrusts turning more erratic. He was close to bursting, and that drove Will past the threshold, had him screaming as he came on the back of the chair, his body clutching Hannibal, dragging him deep. He heard a curse, then felt Hannibal’s heat, felt him still as Will’s muscles worked him over, and then his hand was pulling away from his cock and he was slumping over Will, kissing at his shoulder, licking the salt of his sweat off his skin.

Will didn’t say anything, lost in a world that seemed blissfully _slow_. The world had stopped, and he was in the cracks between time, floating. He felt one of Hannibal’s hands on his side, stroking, tenderly, then his mouth on the back of his neck. When he pulled out, Will whined- the emptiness crashing him back to reality. He didn’t turn around, didn’t need to see Hannibal’s face- the curve of his lips, the cut of his cheekbones, those damn dark eyes. But he accepted the kiss to the back of his head, the way his fingers threaded through his locks almost tenderly.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he whispered, “if you can find it in you to stand. If not- I’ll come back and carry you.” The chuckle that rumbled from his chest seemed to vibrate Will’s skull, and he could have melted into it. When Hannibal pulled away from him, he danced his fingers down Will’s spine, trailing off into nothingness.

The brunet didn’t move until he heard the door open and close- and even then, it was just to rest his forehead against the back of the chair. His thighs were wet, and he knew what from, but couldn’t find it in him to be sick. All he felt was a post orgasm high unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

He could imagine trying to focus through his lens on Hannibal now. Wasn't sure if he could handle that wall. He wanted him back, his mouth on his spine, exploring the curves and knots of each vertebrae. He wanted Hannibal back with his fingers in his hair.

He wanted to stop the world and get off all over again.


End file.
